Little Regrets
by theredscarf
Summary: She started to feel nauseated as the reality of the situation dawned on her. She thought back to that night. It was hard to believe that it was a mere two months since the event. She saw his face. His distortion. It plagued her every night. She couldn't sleep and it was with one of those sleepless nights that brought her here. NOT an alternate LND story. ALW/Kay influences.
1. Chapter One

**Hey readers, this is the now revised and beta'd version of this phic. There isn't much difference between the first few chapters. As you can see, this is now written in 3****rd**** person rather than the original 1****st**** person narrative it was in.**

**I have added several other character views just to add more depth and weight to this.**

**I am really trying not to make this a cliché Love Never Dies phic but only the first part is reference to LND. The rest is *hopefully* completely different from it.**

**I shall post the next chapters during the next few days**

**Anyway, enjoy and review**

CHAPTER ONE: THE MOONLESS LIGHT

She ran.

She ran as fast as her legs would carry her. She didn't care that she wasn't wearing the correct shoes for her journey, nor that she only wore a night gown and a simple black cloak to cover herself with. The cool air pinked her cheeks and cooled her heated skin.

There was no moonlight to guide her in her trek; she used instinct and the dim streetlights, reflecting on the damp Parisian cobbles. Her speed decelerated as she neared her destination. The lamp lights never reached the dark alley way she found herself in and she was far too in thought to contemplate the dangers, a young girl like herself, could be in at this time of night.

She swiftly tapped the old, wooden door. Her heart pounded in anticipation and anxiety; every millisecond passing caused her heart rate even more. At long last, the door finally opened, much to her relief, and the dim light from inside the house extended to silhouette the woman who opened the door. Her aging features were visible by the candle light she held.

"Madame Giry," the girl breathed as she began to compose herself from her arduous trek.

"Christine," Madame Giry whispered in exclaim. "Come inside, child." She gathered the girl in her arms and led her into the warm house. The older woman looked out front to see if there were any witnesses and when she saw nothing but blackness, she closed the door.

Madame Giry brought her into a small sitting area where a few old, dusty and obviously abandoned furniture items were situated in. Christine didn't have time to waste; she needed to speak with _him._She had written to Madame earlier, begging for his whereabouts and now she had found herself in this place.

"Child, what were you thinking in coming here? You are to be married to the Vicomte in the morning!" she kept her voice low. "It is far too late at night. You could've put yourself in danger."

"Madame, _please_, I need to speak with him," she pleaded, almost breaking into tears. The Vicomte had little to do with her thoughts at that point.

The older woman could see the desperation in the girl's eyes. She saw the heavy guilt in Christine's eyes, sorrow that hadn't been seen since the death of her father. Then she remembered the pain her notorious old friend endured for the past year, wallowing in grief of his loss of his only chance of love. Madame Giry never expected this amount of heartbreak. With a defeated sigh, she conceded to the request.

Madame Giry handed off the small candle holder she held in her hand and then slid aside the Persian rug, revealing a trap door. The girl's eyes flew open and she almost chastised herself for doing so when she knew what to expect all along. The older woman bid her forward, then lifted the rope attached to the door and pulled. The creaking of the opening sped Christine's heart up and when a darkened staircase was revealed, she wanted nothing but to go back to the safe de Chagny manor. But she knew she _needed_to do this.

She started to feel nauseated as the reality of the situation dawned on her. She thought back to that night. It was hard to believe that it was a mere two months since the event. She saw his face. His distortion. It plagued her every night. She couldn't sleep and it was with one of those sleepless nights that brought her here. Those tears that she had caused, the pain searing across his face after their lips parted and the screams of the angry mob coming closer towards their desired destination. Guilt consumed her, ate her very soul, so much so that she found herself climbing down from the balcony at the de Chagny estate, running past the gates and entering the Giry's lodgings. Every part of her mind wanted her to run back to the estate.

With a deep breath, she ventured down the black abyss.

With tender steps, being cautious not to cause too much noise from the old, wooden steps, her anxiety only increased. She could see a muted, auburn glow in the short distance and it became evermore clear as she neared it. As she reached the last step, she nearly ran all the way back up when she saw an outline of a hunched figure in the corner.

The shadowed figure had heard the door to his lodgings open and heard the dainty footsteps, gently cascading down the stairs. He half expected it to be Antoinette Giry, bringing further nourishment that he would often toss aside; but nothing would've prepared him when he knew it was _her._Every time the door opened, his heart would flutter with hope that it would be her coming down those stairs, but his heart tore every time it wasn't. He wanted to see her face, hear that ethereal voice of hers and even smell the heavenly scent she owned.

When the footsteps ceased, he waited. He waited for her to announce herself but he could sense the trepidation. He could see the outline of her face, even in the dark. He could see a lot better in the dark than most; the darkness was his only companion. Darkness never impaired him, never betrayed him, never left him.

He gasped at the sight of her; the faint light gave her beauty an eerie quality. Her once-chocolate curls turned auburn in the candlelight and gave her skin a golden tinge. She looked even more beautiful than the last time he laid eyes on her.

The gasp caught the girl's attention and she still couldn't fathom the reality she was in. Her heart almost broke in pieces as she heard the pained gasp and it took all of her might not to burst into guilt-filled tears.

And so, with a trembling breath, she called out, "Angel?"

He inwardly shuddered at sound of her voice, which continued to confirm that she was a tangible being here and not just one of his sick dreams.

"Christine?" his voice croaked out.


	2. Chapter Two

He hesitantly got up from his hunched position, though not even the dim light could hide his disheveled self. He saw the look of awe and dread in her eyes and realized he wasn't wearing his mask neither his wig. He hadn't worn either since his disastrous performance of Don Juan. He quickly pressed a hand against the right side of his face and turned his back to her. He couldn't bear to look at the disgust and horror in her face.

And so, with a clenched fist, he waited her to run back to that _fop_ of hers.

She stood there, dumbfounded, and watched as he pressed a hand to face and turn his back to her. She immediately thought back to that night when she told him she no longer feared his face, but rather his twisted soul. She remembered the frenzied rages he flew in and the terror she felt, but now that she looked at the shell of the man he once was, her heart went out to him.

She slowly took off her cloak and placed it on a nearby stool before placing the candle holder on a table. And with a heavy heart pounding in her chest, she approached him. She lightly touched his shoulder and pulled it back so she could get a closer look at him.

He almost pounced at the contact. He knew that she didn't mean any harm, she was far too angelic to do it with malice, but his heart ached at the fact that this would be the last time she would touch him. He could do nothing but stare at those russet eyes of hers: just as beautiful as he remembered, but he did notice one difference. They were dimmer than the ones he so clearly remembered, as if the light in her was decaying. The only recollection he had of this dimming eyes was when she was only but a very young girl, crying out for her father. The want inside of him ignited as soon as he saw the shadow of her lithe form.

She continued to stare up at his eyes, unmoved by the apparent ugliness, and she could sense herself falling into his enchantment yet again.

"I've come to apologize." She felt tears prick her eyes and quickly looked down so he could not witness them. "I-I shouldn't have left you like the way I did but the...the mob...oh, it was awful of me!" She cried, letting the tears fall freely down her face.

He stood there, perplexed and unsure of what to do. Should he comfort her? Should he wait until she stopped crying? It pained him to see her like that and _damn that boy of hers_! _Letting her out of his sight like that, especially the way she is now_. He sighed in aggravation but he kept his voice soft knowing that his temper would only frighten her away.

"If you want anyone to blame then it is I." The soft tone of his voice brought little comfort to her and her sobs declined. "The whole damnable thing is my fault! I should have never let myself harm you the way I did." He turned his back to her, anger pulsating through his veins once more and clenched his fists.

She looked up at him, eyes wide, and slowly, slowly approached him, placing her hand on his shoulder again. He didn't resist pulling back this time, and almost shoved her hand away from him.

"Angel, please-" she begged.

In a flash, he swerved around to meet her, "I am no angel." his eyes darkening, " I think that was established not so long ago." She looked down, remembering the same memory he referred to where their unusual relationship reached its culmination.

He could see her eyelashes were damp with her tears in the candlelight, and the contours of her face shadowing her high, majestic cheekbones. He shook his head, emitting a small chuckle. How could he ever have thought of tainting her beauty with his abhorrent ugliness, taking her and letting her succumb to his demands, fooling himself that she had any love for him at all. The best solution he could think of was to send her away again, away from him, away from harm. "You should go. You shouldn't even be here. Go back to the Vicomte, I'm sure he is waiting for your return."

She shook her head defiantly. His eyes narrowed, still unused to her defiance.

"I should go, but I shan't." Her voice meek at first but grew as she continued, "You can send me away after we've spoken." raising her head, signifying her growing stature. His lips twitched into a small smile as he admired her courage, showing that she was no longer the young girl he used to teach and play pretend with. She was unsure what to make of that smile on his lips but carried on, "I've come to seek resolution for the both of us. Even though you blame yourself for all that has happened, I cannot help but feel heaviness in my heart. I wish the matter ended better than it did, and I wish I had the chance to say everything I wanted to say."

He swallowed the small lump inside his throat, his heart racing in hope and anticipation, "What was it you wanted to say?"

She paused to lick her lips, readying herself to answer, "That I lo-"

Just then, he pulled her quickly to him, her back pressed against his chest, his hand covering her mouth and moved the both of them to a darker corner of the room. She could hear the floorboards creak above them and several loud voices before a crash of a door was closed. She couldn't feel his chest moving in and out as he breathed, but felt a small, fast pulse of his heart coming from him. As soon as he was certain the coast was clear, he relaxed his hold on her and let out a sigh of relief.

Neither of them moved from the spot they were standing in and a few moments of shock passed before Christine asked quietly, "What was that?"

"The gendarmes most probably. They're still on the hunt for me." his voice, quiet and tinged with slight tiredness and reassignment.

She turned herself around to face him, eyes full of compassion. He looked down at her momentarily, caught in her exquisiteness, before realizing how close they were and went to move away. She caught his arm before he moved, continuing to stare at him. He looked at her in confusion, and she hesitantly placed a hand on his perfect cheek.

He stood there in muted surprise, unable to move or create a sound. A small flicker of a kind smile arranged itself on her face as she brought her other hand up to his . She pressed a small kiss on his mangled lips, wanting to taste him on her lips once more.

The kiss would've lasted longer if he hadn't pulled away so brashly. He gaped at her, eyes wide and mouth slightly askew. He hadn't expected to do such an act, not since the night she left him. He had longed, pained him even, to have those soft lips, which released such heavenly sounds, on his again. He had convinced himself that she would never truly want his hideous features against the perfection of her own. Yet, she had proven him wrong. She had been the one to initiate the kiss and when he saw now repulsion on her face, it pulled him into even more confusion.

Almost regretting her actions after experiencing a moment or two with bewildered silence, she attempted to apologize. "I...apologize. I shouldn't have done that. It was-" She halted as soon as she noticed him walking to her.

He ignored her apology as he slowly moved towards her, like a timid deer, and went to brush his fingers against her cheek before deciding to think better of it and wrenched his hand away. She grabbed his hand, willing him not to turn away. She felt cool, metallic object on his small finger, and casted her eyes away from his to look at it.

The flickering candlelight highlighted the black, onyx ring he had forced her to wear on that night and the heartbreaking return to its original owner. A small smile graced her lips as she remembered the momentous value that the golden ring had for the both of them. She returned it to him because she thought it would be easier on both their hearts if he had something to remember her by, and was glad to see that he still thought of her.

She looked back up at him, her smile never fading. "I was terrified of you and the unforgivable crimes you committed," she admitted, "but what terrified me the most was the indescribable feelings you mixed within me. I was a child, I still am in some respect, and I knew nothing of desire and longing until you evoked them in me. I am still learning what to make of them."

"Christine, please, I am so sorry-" he attempted to apologize until he was silenced by her soft lips gliding across his.

She smiled sweetly at him, cupping his cheek with her hand. "No more apologies. We've both made mistakes and it's not good to dwell on them for so long."

_Such wise thoughts for one so young and inexperienced in life_, he thought. Seeing her here, feeling her caresses and her delightful voice, let him feel so much hope he never thought he had again. He was still convinced that this was all a cruel figment of his twisted imagination, and she would disappear and he would be alone again. His hope still ran high, and he realized then, still after all this time, he needed her. She was of one of the few who bestowed any act of trust and kindness in him, and he longed to feel that sense of humanity again. He felt his throat thicken and tears spilling down his face.

"I still need you, Christine." he murmured, fully aware of what he just said and braced himself of her leaving and never turning back to look at the pathetic being he was.

Taking her other hand, she placed it on his other cheek and kissed him full on his malformed lips. She knew of the risk she was taking, but she also knew that she couldn't deny her want any longer. She never planned, or even thought, that seeking him out would end up like this. Her attempt to find resolution and peace to start a new chapter in her life created an extension to the current one. She could feel him starting to allow himself to give in to the kiss and returned it back, pulling her closer and cautiously putting his hand on the small of her back.

Breathless with the lack of oxygen, she broke away from the kiss. A puzzled expression ran across his face before self-loathing seeped in. She still held his head in her hands, a smile gracing upon her lips which prevented any self doubt from him. "I still need my Angel, too." And she kissed him hard on the mouth.

He failed to put his thoughts into coalition as he kissed her back. His mind swirled as he tried to regain control of his body but it was fruitless. He had longed for this moment for so long; to feel her touch, to feel the shape of her body underneath her clothing, and just to have her here, beside him.

An uncontrollable urge overwhelmed them both as they continued with their hold on one another. Anxious hands flew about as bits of unwanted clothing flew across the room. Soft sighs were emitted from them both as their skin came into contact, fueling their rising desire. Hair was pulled and skin was squeezed, each trying to hold onto dear life as if they were afraid to fall into the abyss of the night. The wall of worry was soon broken as they fell against the makeshift bed.

Fingertips touching, kisses never broken and sighs never quietened as they finally met the barrier of desire. He paused to look at her to ask for consent to continue. The sight of her swollen, red lips and her

He wanted to remember every single second of this moment; the taste of her in his mouth, the suppleness of her skin and her brown locks spread across the bed almost had him to the point of begging to continue. She gave a small nod before pulling him back to her and he heaved a sigh of relief and a inner thank you to the God above. He hesitantly placed himself in her, slowly but surely as to cause her as little pain as possible. She was nervous for breaking such a boundary, but she had confidence in him not to hurt her so, but nothing could prevent her from feeling such discomfort. She tried to disguise the pain she felt as she knew he would fall into a pit of self hatred and their current activity would end suddenly. As his confidence grew, as did his want, he continued to move within her.

Nothing could be compared to the overwhelming sense of love and want he felt as he was inside her. Before, music was his only lover, it never complained, never moved away from him out of fear, but now Christine was here, he realized she was music. Her voice was the only way he could reach to the world of humanity, and he had to have it to have some semblance of a worthy being. All those years of pining were coming to end, and he was sure he would die a happy man if this was the last moment he lived in.

Her body began to channel the pain and discomfort to pleasure as he continued thrust into her. Both sorely inexperienced with such activities, they reached their peaks in little time. Overwhelming waves of pleasure surged through them, making them cry out with joy in their completion.

A short silence of muted surprise past between them before she heard the shuddering cry emerging from his chest as his head dropped down and landed on her shoulder. She laid there unsure of what to do. She felt his hot tears on her skin and she stroked and smoothed whatever hairs he had on his head.

The affectionate gesture she gave him did little to calm him down, in fact it made him even more worse. His whole life he had been denied that once source of love and affection every human desires. His mother and the rest of the world shunned him as soon as he was brought into the world but the one person he pinned for the most gave him the affection freely. Since the day he realized he loved her, he'd been creating scenarios that perhaps he could have some semblance of a normal life but now, just as before, he saw nothing but her suffering if she continued to stay with him.

He decided there and then that he would leave, but not until she fell asleep and unaware of his passing. He considered this way of leaving to be selfish but soon decided that he would not be able to pass so easily away from her.

He wanted to continue engrossing himself in her comforting hold, but he knew that if he did that he wouldn't be able to leave. He removed himself off of her and re-positioned himself, laying flat against the bed. He felt Christine move against him and lay her upon his chest, her curls ghosting across his shoulders. He could feel her eyes burn on him but he kept his eyes shut and pretended to be asleep.

Christine continued to nestle herself against him, finding comfort in the warmth he gave. During the past few months she often wondered what fate intended her to have if perhaps she stayed with him, even after his mixed screams of telling her to leave and stay. She had never thought it was possible to be with him as she was now, so at ease but never bored. She would be content to just sing for him until the end of her days, allowing music to strengthen the bond and love they held.

She wanted to ask him so many questions, find out about everything he knew and she did not. She wanted to discover a life she never knew before and to finally see the world as it is. But, the questions would be saved for later, she decided as she felt her eyes grow heavy with sleep until at last she slept.

* * *

He counted the seconds as they passed, readying himself to leave. He barely looked at her sleeping form as she slept in his arms. He could hardly believe what passed between them and he had to constantly remind himself of the task ahead.

To feel the softness of her skin, the softness of her breath as it whispered onto his scarred chest and the softness of her unruly curls, sprawled everywhere almost tempted him to stay.

But, he had to leave her and allow her to have a life full of happiness that he could never bring her. She needed innocence and beauty, not abhorrence and disgust.

So, with determination tinged with reluctance, he carefully removed her warm body from his and started to fumble for his clothes. Scanning and scrambling any of his clothing he could find and quickly putting them back on. He found her nightdress, tossed aimlessly on the floor, and folded it up and placed it next to her. He didn't want her to fumble for her clothing just as he had.

He took one last glance at Christine's sleeping form, curled up in a ball in the blankets, before saying a silent good-bye and made his way up the staircases.


	3. Chapter Three

Christine slowly stirred back into consciousness. Her head was pounding and the area between her legs ached a little. A little smile formed on her face as the realisation of what happened the night before dawned on her. She patted the space next to her, expecting to find another body lying next to her but she was soon met with an empty space. Quickly snapping her eyes open, searching desperately through the dark room. The only light that was provided was the light coming through the small gap from the door upstairs. Panic rose in her as she moved into a sitting position, covering her small body with a thin sheet.

"Angel?" she desperately cried, tears forming in her eyes, "_Angel?_!"

She heard footsteps from up above her, moving their way to the door and she hoped it would be him returning. The wooden door creaked open and a figure appeared as it made its way down the steps. Christine's focus never faltered on the figure and her heart rate accelerated in anticipation and excitement.

"Angel?" she couldn't contain the small smile that crept on her lips.

"I'm afraid not, Christine," a female voice called back. Christine's heart sank at the revelation and saw Madame Giry come into view. Feeling self conscious about the state she was in, she hitched up the blankets even more.

As the older woman finished the last step, she saw the young woman quickly cover her bare body with the sheet on her bed. She could easily gather from the lack of clothing what happened during the night.

Erik left early that morning, almost wordlessly aside from a few mutterings about making sure Christine arrives back to the Vicomte safely. She was frustrated with him for leaving the young girl in a state, especially since what passed between them a few months prior.

She could see the shame in the girl's eyes for being caught out. She had seen many girls throughout years being abandoned by their lover. It was a shame to see the girl's reputation end in tatters but she knew that was how the world work and it was best to get on with it sometimes.

Madame Giry picked up the nightgown and handed it to her, "I think you will be wanting to put this back on." Christine nodded, giving away a small smile and turned her back towards to put the dress back.

Christine could feel her cheeks go red as her old ballet mistress gave her back the gown. She had probably never more humiliated in all her life; to find herself bare in front of the woman that she saw as a mother-like figure.

She fumbled through the cloth and awkwardly fitted the gown back on her, before turning back to Madame Giry. She found it hard to look at her back in the eye, but she tried to persevere.

"Will he be returning soon?" Christine asked meekly.

She shook her head, "No, I'm afraid not, Christine."

"So, when will he be returning?" She asked quickly as paranoia crept into her mind.

She sighed sadly as she chose her words carefully, "He's not going to return. He left early this morning."

All Christine could say was a small 'Oh.' as she felt her life crumble around her. Her heart felt as if it was being crushed and stomped on a thousand times and she had no way of stopping it. A lump was caught in her throat and she could feel hot tears spill down her cheek.

The older woman hated to see the pain written across her face as she broke the news. She sat herself down next to Christine, wrapping an arm around her trembling body. It was upsetting to see her in this state and she wanted to try her best in comforting her.

After a moment or so of quite sobs, Christine asked: "Did...Did he say anything or leave anything for me?"

"He only uttered a few words about making sure you arrive safely back to the Vicomte." Madame replied softly.

Christine's heart stopped for a second. Raoul. She had completely forgotten that today was her wedding day. A knot in her stomach began to form as guilt ate her_. How could I do this to him? When he's treated me with nothing but kindness?_ She fretted.

"Oh, Madame Giry, I can't go back now! Not after what has happened!" she pleaded. "If he finds out, he wouldn't want me anymore; he'll only hate me!" she cried.

"Calm yourself, please!" The older woman exclaimed, trying to relax the frantic young woman. When she was sure Christine would be listening she carried on, " He won't have to find out, not if you make a fuss about it."

"But-" she interrupted.

"No," she looked at her sternly, "I advise you to take up on this marriage, Christine, as many girls such as you wouldn't ever be able to obtain such an opportunity. You love him, no?" Christine nodded without a second thought. "And he loves you?" She nodded again. "Well, then that's all there is to it." Christine looked at her with a puzzled expression. "Love and companionship are the bases of a marriage." she smiled slightly. "And it would be best not to tell him of your...recent activities."

"But I thought trust is part of the foundation of marriage too?" Christine asked worriedly.

"Yes, it is, but every woman must have their own secrets," Madame Giry looked distant for a moment as old memories came into view, "I've had my own fair share." She sighed before pushing herself off the bed. "Come, I think your carriage is here."

She grabbed her cloak and handed it to her. Christine hesitated for a moment and then took the cloak and got up from where she resided. She followed her to the stairs before looking back, remembering what happened where. The bed sheets still tangled and the candles still burnt out. Fresh tears threatened to spill down her cheeks but she took a heavy breath before climbing up the stairs. She had never anticipated these events but not one moment did she regret. As they made it to the top, Madame Giry sealed the opening shut and took her cloak before wrapping it around her.

"Am I expected to forget everything that happened?" Christine asked silently with a slight bitter tone.

Madame Giry noticed the bitter twinge to her voice and replied, " If you want a safe, comfortable life, then yes." Her face softened as she saw her trying to wipe away a tear, "You know you can always write to me if you are in need of anything."

She nodded, "I will write to you either way, and Meg, of course." Her eyes widened slightly, "You won't tell her what happened, will you?"

"I won't unless I have your permission to do so." she smiled slightly.

A distant noise of hooves trampling across could be heard as the carriage drew itself outside the house. Christine looked at the source of the noise and assumed it was for her.

Christine gave her former ballet mistress a fierce hug, "Thank you, for everything."

Madame Giry wiped a falling tear from Christine's face as she pulled back, "Now go. Just remember you have your whole life ahead of you; don't waste it."

Christine nodded and clambered into the carriage. She gave a small smile as the coach left the house. Madame Giry just watched as she saw the girl leave. She hoped, prayed, that everything would turn out well for her. She deserves it, she thought. The young woman had faced many trials already in her young life with being made an orphan at a very young age, being lied and deceived to and suffering heartbreak just this morning. She hoped she wouldn't dwell on what happened for long and move on with her life.

She sighed heavily as she went back into the house.

Silent tears trickled down Christine's face as she watched the world fly by her . She saw the once blackened cobbles that she saw just that last night now illuminated by the dawning sun. She sighed and told herself to stop crying because it was no use, he was gone. She continued to question why he left and all the answers seemed to have been her fault. She had either hurt him too much or that she displeased him so.

She laughed at the irony of it; she left him that night when he was pleading her to stay and now the tables had turned and she was the one aching in heartbreak. She wondered if the pain would ever go away and she was doomed to have it for the rest of her life.

She couldn't deny that she loved Raoul but it seemed that it wasn't enough. He had treated her with nothing but love and she betrayed his trust in her. She wondered if he would ever forgive her if he ever found out. She did feel remorse for deceiving his trust but she had to admit she didn't feel guilt for doing the act. As Madame Giry said, marriage is based on love, she would do her best to make the marriage work.

As the manor came into view she quickly tapped on the driver's window, "Would you mind driving round the back to the servant's entrance, please?" He looked at her with a puzzled expression before nodding and proceeding driving to the back.

When they stopped, she rushed out the carriage and thanked the man for his kind services and quickly slipped through the back door. She passed through the kitchens where the day's meals were being prepared. The sounds and smells made her feel sick with nerves and she prayed she wouldn't be noticed as she made her way to the room.

As she crept up the stairs, almost making it to her bedroom door and careful not to make a sound, a familiar voice made its presence: "Ah, Mademoiselle there you are! I have been looking all over for you. Come, let's get you out of those clothes and clean you up before you put on your dress!"

The maid smiled warmly at her and sighed wistfully as she more or less dragged Christine to the bathroom. A warm bath was ready and waiting for her with several other maids preparing the soap and scrub. Christine's cloak and nightgown was discarded and she was then placed into the soapy water.

She felt her cheeks flush a bright scarlet and tried to cover herself up whilst in the water. Her hair was washed and combed through to get rid of any tangles and her body scrubbed with soap, after being convinced to remove her hands from her body. Christine was oblivious to all the cheerful chitchat from the maids and she tried to refrain herself from crying.

Once she was dry enough and her hair combed through and put up, the under layer of her dress was put on. Her corset was tighten to the point where she found it difficult to breathe, though she found the distraction from her thoughts useful. The lace underskirts almost put her in a tangle and the fluffiness of the dress made it difficult to walk.

She found the admiring gazes and the encouraging comments a little bit helpful but the lurking guilt inside of her never subsided.

All the way to the church she kept reassuring herself with Madame Giry's advice in not telling Raoul the truth but the knot in her stomach never untied itself. She tried to control her breathing and kept wringing her fingers together to stop them from shaking. She hoped that no one noticed her absence from the home, especially not Raoul.

She was greeted with an old family friend of the de Chagny's, or an Uncle, though, she couldn't quite remember. He seemed pleasant enough, but nothing could subside at the fact that her father wasn't there to give her away. She swallowed the lump in her throat as she was handed a small bouquet of roses a lilies. The old church doors were open and music was played. She felt every pair of eyes on her as they walked down the aisle, judging and scrutinizing her every movement. She let her eyes focus on the floor as she tried to keep her nerves down.

Raoul turned his head to sneak a quick look at his bride. The veil concealed her face but he was almost certain there would be an excited smile on her lips. They had been waiting for this moment for a long time, and now with no more hauntings of a crazy madman who almost killed him, they were ready to start a new life between them.

He couldn't care less of what people thought of his marriage to Christine. He knew there was talk of what happened at the Populaire, but he did little to correct them because he was sure the topic would die down and new scandal would appear. His brother didn't approve of the marriage at first but he managed to convince him otherwise and this assured him that others would do the same.

He waited patiently for Christine to be brought to him and he could barely contain his excitement with a smile on his face. When she finally stood next to him, he couldn't help but focus his attention on her. He tried to subtly catch her gaze but she seemed too focused on what the priest was saying. He had to be made aware that he had to say his vows with a slight nudge of his brother's arm.

When the service was over, and the Priest announced the marriage, Raoul lifted her veil an kissed her full on the lips. When he parted, he caressed her cheek gently, feeling the soft skin beneath his fingers.

"You look beautiful." he whispered in her ear. She smiled faintly but avoided making eye contact with him. Raoul noticed how distant she was being but didn't want to say anything with everyone paying attention to them.

He hooked his arm round hers and lead her down the aisle. He couldn't contain the smile on his lips as friends and family applauded them. Christine, on the other hand, displayed a small smile on her face but paid more attention to the church's exit.

The reception was filled with celebration and toasts welcoming Christine to the family. She smiled throughout every word, trying to cover up the sadness she felt inside. She was glad to see how the family and friends seemed so welcoming to her becoming the new Vicomtesse, but she had an overwhelming feeling that she wouldn't be able to live up to the expectations.

When the celebrations died down, Raoul found his wife in the parlour by herself. He sat down next to her, taking her hands in his and kissed them gently.

"Is it about your father, Christine?" he asked carefully, coaxing her to look at him."You've been very distant today and I wonder if that is the reason why."

She couldn't bear to lie to him, but she found some comfort in that was partly the reason why she had been quiet throughout the day. It left an aching feeling in her hurt that her father wasn't there to join in with the celebrations and he would never witness his daughter marrying.

"Yes, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to spoil today for you." she said quietly, looking down at her wedding ring. She hated disappointing Raoul, and especially since guilt in her infidelity had already taken its place, the thought of adding to it made tears form in her eyes.

Raoul quickly saw the tears slide down her cheek. He swiftly brought her head back up, cupping her face in his hands and wiped away the tears with his thumbs.

"You've done no such thing," he said, staring at her with tender eyes. "I was only asking because you've been so quiet today." He released his hold of her and took her hands once more. "I should have been more thoughtful, I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to apologise for." she mumbled, looking at their hands.

"And neither do you," he chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. Christine looked back up at him, trying to disguise the guilt she felt. "Let's give our guests our good-byes and go up stairs. We've had a long day and I'm sure you'll want your rest." He stood up and offered to help her up. She took has hand and stood up next him. He cupped her cheek with his hand, "I love you, Little Lottie and I hope to make you as happy as you make me."

Christine felt tears threatening to spill and she swallowed the lump in her throat, "And I love you, too, Raoul."

Raoul beamed, "Well, I'm very happy to hear that, Vicomtesse Christine de Chagny." He kissed her on the lips, "Now, let's go thank our guests." He took his hand in hers and led them out of the parlour.

Christine continued to feel guilt-ridden and she prayed that Madame Giry was right and that she would never have to reveal what happened the night before. Her heart was still aching from his leaving her that morning. She wished that if he had stayed that this wedding would be theirs but she knew it was too late. She married a man that she assumed she loved but she couldn't help but feel a tiny amount of regret in doing so. She knew her father would approve of him, and Madame Giry, too, so she promised herself that she would make the marriage work for them.


	4. Chapter Four

CHAPTER FOUR

He woke up to find his wife standing outside the balcony of their bedroom. It was becoming a regular occurrence to find her like that, looking up at the night sky as if she was in a world of her own.

He laid in bed for a moment, debating whether or not to leave her alone but soon decided that she needed her rest and got up from the bed. He fumbled about for his robe as the weather had been turning a bit chilly, especially at night.

He walked over to her and stood next to her, placing his hand over hers on the balcony.

"Why are you up so late?" He asked, "You need your rest." His eyes drifted over to the slight bulge in her stomach. It had only been recently found out that they were expecting a child, and he was concerned that she hadn't paid much attention to the life growing inside of her as much as he had.

She turned her head slightly to catch a glimpse of him, "I'm sorry, I just couldn't sleep." She had been finding it hard to sleep. Since that night she awoke alone, she feared that it would happen again and again and she preferred not to fall asleep in the dark. Her sleepless nights also put a toll on her young marriage. She was restless and more irritable, especially as she couldn't shake away the guilt of betraying her husband. She hated being that way especially since Raoul was treating with nothing but love and devotion.

When she found out that she was carrying a child, she felt a flicker of hope in her heart that raising the child together would bring them closer and stop the marriage collapsing in on itself. The more she thought about it, the more the distaste for it grew. She knew how to conceive a child and by the estimation the family doctor had given her, she realised perhaps

Raoul may not be the father.

She continued to question herself whether or not she could allow her child to be raised by a man who is not its father. She was in a dilemma because of it. She thought back to what Madame Giry told her that girls such as her wouldn't have the chance to live in a privileged life as she was in. She knew that if she Raoul told the truth, that there would be a great chance in her being removed from the house. With a reputation in tatters, she wouldn't be able to raise a child on her own. So, she decided to keep quiet for the baby's sake as well as her own.

"I'm sorry," she turned to face him, subconsciously rubbing her stomach, "I was finding it hard to sleep again." she smiled slightly, "But, I think I'm ready to go back in now. Will you join me?" she asked as she made her way back through the doors.

Raoul watched his wife go in the bedroom for a moment and ran his hands through his hair. He sighed, tired of not knowing what to do. He was worried about his wife, and what kind of impact her odd behaviour would be having on their unborn child. She was finding it difficult to fall asleep, she wasn't eating as much as she used to and she had completely lost interest in singing.

He hoped that this was just a phase that would soon pass as the months grew on, but some doubt still lurked in his mind. He sighed as he went back into the bedroom.

Christine was already in bed when he came in and took of his robe, placing it in a nearby chair. He wasn't sure if she was asleep, so he crept quietly into bed. He closed his eyes, waiting a moment or so to see if Christine would stir and get back up again.

When he was certain Christine was asleep, he allowed himself to sink into the realms of sleep. He almost to the point of deep sleep when felt the bed move and felt something grab onto him. He opened his eyes and looked down to find Christine holding onto his waist.

Her eyes were closed and her was breathing steady, he saw her face was relaxed. He rubbed her uncovered arm, revelling in the rare affection she gave him. Gestures such as these eased his fears of her not loving him as much as he originally thought.

He was ready to drift off when he felt Christine lightly prodded him.

"Raoul?"

"Hm?"

He felt the weight of her on him shift as she sat up slightly.

"Do you think I will be a good enough mother?" she fretted, knotting her fingers though the curled ends of her hair

Raoul pushed himself up and looked at her in confusion "What?" he asked, making sure he heard correctly.

Christine repeated her question, emphasising each word. Raoul shook his head, thinking the question unnecessary and absurd, especially at that time of the night.

"Christine, of course you will! There's no reason at all to doubt yourself." he rubbed his temple and tried to sympathise her, but his patience was wearing away, "Is that why you haven't been sleeping all that well recently?"

She nodded, afraid of revealing something she would soon regret.

Raoul sighed.

"Look, you're over tired and you need your rest. If want to talk about it then we can talk tomorrow, but for now, I would like to be able to get some rest, too." He kissed her forehead before bidding her a good night and turned over.

Christine was restless and overwrought with emotion. She waited quietly until her husband was asleep before creeping out of bed. She walked lightly on the glazed wooden floor towards the balcony doors. She pushed down the old golden handle and eased herself through the small gap, careful not to hit the small bump she cradled.

The cool spring air hit her skin, which she welcomed with open arms; it kept her fresh and awake. Her fingers curled around the black railings as she looked down at the gardens beneath her. She liked to keep the gardens looking lovely and colourful, adorning it with her favourite flowers and shrubs. Raoul set her to the task of making it looking 'beautiful as her' which she blushed at but enjoyed it nonetheless.

Although she had little to do with the digging and planting, she liked to watch the flowers blossom and adorn the house with them. She was grateful that she had something to keep her mind off things but that wasn't enough; she wanted something more. She had little spirit for singing anymore and she didn't have many people she could talk to. Raoul was out the majority of the time, The Giry's were only attainable by letter and she felt excluded out of the de Chagny's social circle.

Raoul promised her that it would take time for her to be fully accepted, but that didn't ease her much. She had a few acquaintances but none of which she would call them her friend. And she knew once she was too big to attend parties or go out, she would be even more excluded.

She sighed. She was tired; so very tired. She missed him, very much so; more than she felt guilt. She twisted her wedding ring with her fingers, feeling the cool smoothness on her finger tips. Tears began to overwhelm her, thinking of what her life might've been like if he had stayed. Of course there would be troubles that would've been difficult to face but she was convinced they would have been happy. She rubbed her stomach, thinking that perhaps he would've been the one that would be laying with at night, protecting her and their unborn child.

She wiped away an escaped tear. She promised herself that she wouldn't think of him but she was finding it difficult not to. She knew she needed to, if not for her; but her unborn baby.

She smiled down at the bump as she felt a small flutter against her palm. She basked in moments like this; she felt an overwhelming sense of love and hope. She yawned and she knew she needed to sleep. She looked down at the garden before going back inside.

But then she saw something in the hedges; something white. She moved back to get a closer look but as soon as she stepped forward, it disappeared. She stood motionless for a moment, contemplating what to do. Curiosity stirred within her and the possible return of her Angel stewed in her brain.

She scurried through the bedroom, not really caring if she woke her sleeping husband up. She dashed through the hallway and down the stairs. She unlatched the glass door which led to the gardens. Her feet landed on the damp grass before she paused. She scanned the gardens, trying to see if she could spot him. She was convinced that it was her Angel coming back for her after her left her alone and distressed.

Moments passed by slowly as she realized that he wasn't there. Her heart dropped to her stomach and tears overwhelmed her as a pair of hands clasp around her shoulders. She gasped as she turned around.

"Christine, what on earth are you doing down here?" Raoul asked angrily and breathlessly. It was obvious that he was woken up by her scampering and ran to catch up with her.

She blinked at him, putting her arm on her heart as if to calm its pounding and tears glazed her eyes. "I thought I saw him." she finally admitted.

"Who?" he asked, bewildered.

"You know who, Raoul."

Raoul paused for a moment, thinking of who it could be. He was tired and had little patience with Christine's night antics.

"The Phantom? Christ, Christine! He's dead!" He threw his hands up in the air.

Christine was unplussed at his outburst. She ducked her head down, "I know, but I am sure I saw something."

Raoul heaved a sigh, "Whatever you saw, Christine, it wasn't him; he's dead. You haven't been sleeping all that well recently, so you probably didn't see anything."

"But-"

"Christine, please, for heaven's sake, come to bed." he urged, taking her arm and walking back up to the house.

She realised there was no point in fighting. Raoul was right, she needed her rest. He plopped her back on the bed, gave her a brisk good night and turned his back to her once more. She closed her eyes and willed herself to sleep, but she wanted comfort. Raoul didn't seem to be forth giving and she thought it was best not to disturb him.

Silent tears trickled down her face. Memories of the opera house and her travels with her father flooded in to her mind. They were her most happiest memories and she wanted relive them desperately. She missed her father, her ballet friends and most importantly; her Angel.

She was so certain that she had saw him and she knew Raoul was wrong about him being dead. There was always and underlying hope that he would return to her and whisk her away from this place. Up till now her faith in him was chipping away, but tonight, the hope reinstated itself in her heart and she prayed silently that he would return again.


	5. Chapter Five

Erik leaned back against the chair, tapping his fingers on the desk and regarded his surroundings. He made sure the room was as far away from the other passengers as possible all the while ensuring the room had some sort of comfort and style. The room was adorned with several paintings, carpeted flooring, an en suite and several items of furniture. He refused to leave the room on the grounds of the obvious reasons that he, being a masked man, would gain too much unwanted attention all the while being on the run from the Parisian authorities. He paid the captain an obscene and unnecessary amount of money ensuring his early boarding and skipping the inspections when the boat docks at England.

Frustrated with the confines of one room and the mental conflict stirring inside his mind, he stood up and began to pace. He reflected on his conversation with Madame Giry before he boarded earlier that morning. She told him she knew he visited Christine and that it was wrong of him to do so. What struck a chord with him the most was finding out about Christine's pregnancy. Of course he realised it was to be expected but he didn't expect it to hit him quite as hard.

He was happy for them; for her mainly as he stilled despised de Chagny to somewhat degree. She had moved on. Willingly or not, she still had moved on. It pained him and he blamed himself entirely. Before, he had one small slither of hope that he could allow himself to return to Christine, and now with that hope in tatters, he realised he couldn't bring himself to remove a mother from her child. Perhaps it was because he failed to have a loving relationship with his own mother that he wanted to abolish that selfishness.

He heaved a despondent sigh before picking up one of his rolled up sketches and unravelling. He placed it on top of the mahogany desk and skimmed his fingers along the edges of the drawing, flattening it out. He made a quick inspection, trying to distract himself from wallowing about. He noticed parts of it were fading and reached out for his graphite pencil to redo the lining.

With Madame Giry's help, he managed to secure an architectural job in London. Although he already gained the job with high appraisal, he had to submit a few designs to his new manager. He was relieved to find out that he didn't have go out across England and meet customers, the prospect terrified him. He only have to submit and explain the ideas to his manager.

While Madame Giry was writing to his new managers, she explained the implication of his mask. She claimed that he was hit badly during the Seige of Paris and that his mask was necessary. He hated explaining himself so he was grateful for her explanation.

When the correction was done, and as pleased as he could be with it, he rolled it back up and placed it back with the other drawings and cleared up the pencils. He smoothed back his wig, something he had missed doing during his hiding, and went about packing away his things. The ship would be boarding soon and he had to prepare himself.

He sighed and went to gather his things.

* * *

Raoul closed the door and walked across the room towards his brother, who had his hands behind his back.

"You said you wanted to speak with me, Brother?" he enquired. His brother turned around to face him, bowed his head slightly in greeting. Raoul became concerned with the serious expression on his face.

"Drink?" his brother offered, pouring himself out one. Raoul shook his head, thinking it was too early to be consuming Cognac.

Anxiety grew within him as his brother took his time drinking. The tick-tock of Grandfather clock on the side of the room matched his heartbeat as he waited eagerly for him to speak.

"Philippe?" Raoul asked, almost impatiently.

"Hm? Oh, yes." he said, placing the glass back down. "I wanted to speak with you about your wife."

"Christine?"

"Well, unless you have another wife that I don't know about, then yes." Raoul rolled his eyes as his brother chuckled. Seeing the annoyed expression on his younger brother's face, Philippe returned to his original serious appearance. "I've come to understand that she's has been not herself lately. This morning at breakfast, she seemed so...dim. She just doesn't seem like the bright young woman we all know her as."

Raoul was touched by his brother's concern . He remembered when he first became engaged to Christine and his brother disapproved of it. He was glad to hear his acceptance of his wife from his Philippe.

"Thank you for the concern, Brother, but, yes, I do agree with you that Christine hasn't been herself lately." Philippe passed him a glass of Cognac and he took it eagerly this time and sat down on a nearby chair. "I...I don't think she has since the wedding, truth be told."

Philippe patted his shoulder supportively, "Have you spoken with our physician about it? She hasn't been sleeping well,, has she? And neither have you by the looks of it."

"No. Should I?" He asked, worried.

"I think it is best thing to do. I'm about to take my leave and I'll be passing his home anyway, would you like me to ask him visit this afternoon?"

"Yes, thank you. Would you like me to see you out?" he offered as he stood up.

"No, no. Just take care of yourself and that wife of yours." he said as they shook hands. "I'll visit again next week and write to me if you are in need of anything."

When his brother left and he could hear the steady crunch of the gravel against horses hooves, Raoul slumped against the chair. He held his head in his hands and ruffled his fingers through his hair as he yawned. He could feel bags forming underneath his eyes and his eyes were growing heavy.

A light tap at the door stirred him up and he quickly fixed his and cleared his throat.

"Come in."

The door opened and Christine meekly walked in. The lace white dress blended in with her pale complexion and he smiled slightly at the small shadow her bump casted on the white material.

He walked over to his wife and rubbed her shoulders in concern, "Is everything alright?" he asked as he traced the dark circles under her eyes. She nodded as she pulled herself away.

"I saw Philippe leave." she said quietly.

"Yes, did he say anything to you?"

"Hm, he just said good-bye and to take care of myself." She handed him a letter. "Would you mind sending this off for me? It's only a letter to the Girys." He nodded, placing it in his pocket. Christine turned to leave when Raoul took her hand.

"Christine, wait. I think we just need to talk for a moment." she nodded and sat down next to her husband.

"I'm very, very concerned about your health. In fact, so is Philippe. You haven't really been yourself lately, have you? You hardly sleep and you barely eat a thing. I dread to think what kind of impact it has done to the Little One." Christine bowed her head, her cheeks burning with shame.

"I'm sorry." she mumbled. Raoul shook his head, exasperated. He lifted her chin so she could see the look of worry on his face.

"You've got to stop apologising, Christine. There's nothing to apologise for. If there's anyone to blame it's me because I'm supposed to the one caring for you." He sighed."Where's the girl I once knew whose cheeks were red from smiling and not of upset?" He said more quietly with a small smile on his face. "If there is anything troubling you, then please tell me. It has to be something more than you missing your father."

Christine fiddled with her fingers in her lap, tormented by what to say. She could feel a lump forming in her throat and tears in her eyes.

"I...I just feel as if you've made the wrong choice in marrying me. Look at me, I was a chorus girl and you...you a man of nobility. I've completely isolated you from everyone and...and what have you got to show for it? An incompetent wife who can barely match up to the task." She cried. Raoul held her as she sob, waiting for her to calm down.

"How can you say such things when you know how I love you? Has this really been the cause of your lack of sleep and loss of appetite?" He asked as he stroked her hair and he felt her nod against him. He pushed her away from him gently and wiped away the trickling tears from her face. He still feared that was something else that was troubling her but he didn't want her to be in a state again."I'll tell you what, why don't I call on the maid to get us some lunch?" He stood up and went to call upon a maid.

Christine watched as her husband left. She felt some relief in revealing some of her insecurities but the burden which bothered her the most, she could never reveal.

As she stood to straighten her dress, she felt a searing pain go across her abdomen. She clutched her stomach and the edge of the chair as she cried out. Raoul came rushing back in, eyes wide as he caught her as she fell. She became limp and weak and as he went to pat her awake he saw his bloodied hands.


End file.
